


don’t dream of the rain

by antagonists



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists/pseuds/antagonists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the ballroom, a flurry of sakura blossom: courtesy of Hoshidan onmyouji. Behind all the fluttering pink and white hues, a barefoot princeling with glowing red eyes, brighter than the flesh of plums the Nohrians have received in their gifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don’t dream of the rain

**Author's Note:**

> when i first played conquest last year (jp vers.) and heard zero's lines i legit doubted my own ears  
> but i've come to embrace his nastiness and my gayness for him knows no bounds

+

 

 

“He’s not blind, you know,” Leon says offhandedly as he delicately reaches for another tomato. “It’d be hard for anyone not to notice how you’re staring.”

 

“Is that so,” Zero hums. “Then I do hope he comes this way with his greetings.” In the ballroom, a flurry of sakura blossom: courtesy of Hoshidan onmyouji. Behind all the fluttering pink and white hues, a barefoot princeling with glowing red eyes, brighter than the flesh of plums the Nohrians have received in their gifts. The intricate silks of vibrant color seem to almost try to hide the boy’s pallor. Zero wets his lips.

 

“How unpleasant,” says Leon while watching him out of the corners of his eyes, voice soft but clear through Odin’s uncoordinated babble. He does not, however, reprimand Zero, or tell him explicitly to stop thinking about what he is surely thinking about. “He’s been brought up as a strange sort; Father made sure he wasn’t to see the outside world before the Hoshidans took him back. Do your best not to drive him away.”

 

“Of course,” Zero obliges, adding a small curtsy for effect. Leon eyes him again warily but does not comment further.

 

The demon boy comes to greet them. He’s familiar with Leon, but has never seen anyone outside his adopted siblings and a few servants. As such, he bows first towards Leon, then Zero, still stumbling over traditional Hoshidan greetings. His language is mostly without error, and his body is unobtrusive and polite, but his eyes are vague, haunted. Zero takes one pale hand and kisses the boy’s pale fingers. His nails have been trimmed, but they are uneven as though the day has seen too much anxiety, too many strangers and bright lights. When Zero lets go, the prince lets his arm drop.

 

“It’s nice to see you well, Kamui,” Leon says lightly. “I do hope they are treating you well.”

 

 _I’ll hurt them if they’re hurting you_ , is the underlying message. Really, for all of Leon’s facades, he has such a weakness for his adopted demon brother. (Even though Leon’s still bitter with a sense of betrayal, still angry that his brother would choose to side with the very ones who shunned him).

 

“They mean well,” Kamui begins to say, and flinches when someone calls his name behind him. He turns to Leon with wide eyes, glancing at Zero, seeming to ask for permission to leave.

 

“Looks like they’re calling you,” Leon drums his fingers in his lap. “You probably shouldn’t keep them waiting.” The strange prince hesitates and bows again before retreating behind the petals.

 

“You scared him off,” says Zero.

 

Leon sighs. Behind them, Odin grins messily around red mouthfuls of fruit.

 

 

+

 

 

On a sleepless night, Zero sights the demon prince along a drying riverbed. It’s so well into the night that morning is not far off, and he is but a pale spot against the slowly lightening sky, a little lost, a little lonely. Poor demon child, left to roam the Nohrian deserts at such a young age. Zero doesn’t quite remember how many years it has been since the demon had first been brought to the castle’s doorsteps, bleeding from purifying magic. He remembers that the smell of burning flesh had lingered in the hallways for some days, and that the hellish screams had made weak-hearted individuals’ ears bleed.

 

Kamui’s only just recently been taken back into the tall, imposing red temples than the Hoshidan royalty call their home. One can only wonder why they would welcome the very demon they had exiled years before, but Zero figures that having a demon as an ally is better than having one for an enemy. Had the two countries been in more trying times, war would only be natural. In another dimension, perhaps, they are already at war.

 

“It’s late for you, isn’t it, boy?”

 

The prince does not react, continues to drag his pointer finger through the remaining water like he is writing a spell.

 

“I miss her,” the boy says plainly.

 

Zero had heard that while the demon prince had been wandering, a water spirit had quelled his nightmares and healed his scarring heart. To what extent the demon fell for her, he does not know. (But it makes sense, doesn’t it? That spirits would have to comfort each other, rely only on each other because humans know only smothering love and destruction). He moves close enough to recognize the patterns Kamui traces into ripples—the same spells Nohrian mages use for seeking, for self-comfort.

 

“You must love her a lot,” Zero says, perching himself on a jutting stone to watch from above.

 

“I miss her,” the demon corrects. His eyes may be empty at times, but his voice at least, shows conviction.

 

“Why don’t you go looking for her?”

 

Kamui’s red eyes flash dangerously. For a moment, the wind seems to whisper angrily through barren trees. He looks back down, returns to drawing in the water. In the few days he’s spent in Nohr, his nails have grown more ragged. Soon enough, under his own sharp teeth, they will begin to bleed. The next they meet, Zero suspects, the same fingers he’s kissed will likely be swathed in clean linen. “They sealed her into another world. She can’t come back.”

 

“Then,” Zero continues, “if you could find a spell to bring her back, would you?”

 

Kamui hesitates.

 

In stories, Leon would say that Kamui had been unable to hide his horns, his sharp fangs. Now, when Zero looks at him, the only odd things he can see are the pointed ears, the sad eyes. The demon must’ve learned, through other’s animosity, that he would only survive with human features in this world. When Kamui turns to look at Zero, he stares back silently. The wind has gone oddly still.

 

“No,” Kamui finally says, breaking eye contact. He stares at the water once more, but does not resume writing archaic spells. “This world wasn’t kind to her. I wouldn’t want to—” he glances up at the fading stars, “—to bring her back here.”

 

“I see.”

 

The soft stream of water dividing the land seems unusually loud, seeing that it’s only half the size that it used to be. Zero has bad memories of this river in particular, but they seem more distant in the face of a demon’s longing. He shifts so that he can prop his chin on one hand, making no move to hide his blatant staring. Kamui either doesn’t notice, or he ignores it.

 

“Leon misses you dearly,” says Zero. Kamui pauses to look up at him, expression a mixture of sorrow and regret.

 

 _I’m sorry_ , is what Kamui seems to be thinking, but dressed in Hoshidan garb, crowned with elegant rather than firm gold, he instead says: “I see.”

 

With the conversation having fallen flat, Zero watches Kamui bite at his fingertips. In the glow of the far-off rising sun, his teeth gleam brightly, sharp enough to cut through hundreds of thousands of spells and still spill blood.

 

 

+

 

 

He still has nights where he wakes up breathing hard, eye flickering between the darkness on one side of his quarters and the silver light spilling through the windows. Sometimes, over the panicked thrum of his heart, his skull throbs with searing phantom pain. He presses one palm flat against the right side of his face, takes in deep breaths, and reaches for his eyepatch, fumbles with the leather strings. It feels heavy over his eyelids, but still dulls the imaginary pain.

 

In his ears, the sharp sound of rushing, turgid water; persistent, restless.

 

Tonight, the moon is full, visible if he angles himself just right in front of the glass panes. He paces the hallways, fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger before he realizes his bad habit, and pries his fingers from the warmed handle. Leon sees him from the open door to his study, and the soft call of his name nearly makes him flinch.

 

“Zero,” Leon repeats. “Don’t just stand there, come in.”

 

“Milord,” he drawls sweetly, shuts the door. “Calling for me so late at night?”

 

Unfazed, Leon waves his hand dismissively. “You look a mess. Sit down, help yourself to some tea.”

 

Zero lifts the lid of the teapot, sniffs tentatively. It smells strongly of peach and hibiscus. To the side, honey and milk. His lord has always had a tendency for the milder, sweeter tastes. Odin probably brewed it—despite his airheadedness, the fool has always been strangely good at picking out the teas that Lord Leon enjoys most.

 

Instead of sitting down like he’s been told to do, Zero walks to Leon’s side, leans casually on the armrest. He’s so close he can feel the warmth from his lord’s arm. “Unfinished business, milord?”

 

“Letters, mostly,” says Leon. He has the best penmanship out of the Nohrian royalty and takes pride in it. “For diplomatic purposes, some of us will be making a brief trip to Hoshido.”

 

Zero stares at the fancy script on paper. For some reason, all the letters seem to be blurring together in the candlelight. Seeing the slant and graceful curves of Leon’s handwriting somehow reminds him of elaborate Hoshidan calligraphy, not that he could understand the unfamiliar characters. He leans closer. “When will preparations need to be finished?”

 

“Within a fortnight.” Setting down his pen and gently setting the letters aside, Leon turns to look Zero in the eye. “You’ve not been sleeping well lately.”

 

“Concern over my bed habits, milord?” Zero grins.

 

“Nohrian magic doesn’t help you,” Leon continues as he usually does. “In Hoshido, I will search for some spells to help alleviate some of your nightly concerns.”

 

Zero opens his mouth to make another lewd comment, but he’s silenced when Leon gives him a sharp look.

  
“Yes, milord,” he replies instead.

 

Leon returns to his letters, satisfied. “Good. Now as I said earlier, help yourself to some tea.”

 

 

+

 

 

Amidst the serene landscapes, stone gardens and painted gates, Zero feels remarkably out-of-place. Next to him, Odin is rambling about something about the beauty of Hoshidan culture, the magnificence of the architecture, the delicacies in the noodle and snack stands. His voice is loud even in the rumble of the crowded city’s streets, and it certainly attracts the attention of many locals. Zero clicks his tongue and moves away.

 

The welcoming banquet is lavish, adorned with gold bells and decorative white paper that he recognizes as warding charms. The Hoshidan royalty and retainers greet their small party with great hospitality, yet Zero feels strange under their kind gazes, the same that may have thrown their dear brethren from the castle. Kamui greets him as well, a little less awkward in his traditional garments. His fingers are bandaged, like he’d expected, but Zero still kisses them anyways.

  
“So good to see you,” he murmurs over Kamui’s fingers, smile coy. The whispers around them do nothing to deter him. “Still taking long walks at night?”

 

“The nights are clearer, here,” says the demon. His eyes are uncut rubies.

 

Zero chuckles and leans back. This time, when he lets go of the prince’s hand, Kamui takes it back gently.

 

“Really,” Leon remarks idly, when the greetings have finished. As usual, Odin already has his mouth full with food, but thankfully does not try to speak through the food this time.

 

“Yes, milord?”

 

Leon gives him a flat look but is interrupted by the youngest Hoshidan prince, who is unreserved and less delicate in mannerisms than his other siblings. He excuses himself hastily, and Zero watches him go, smug.

 

 

+

 

 

The capital is designed so that the main river runs from the northwest to the southeast gates. It is meant to represent a cleansing passage, carrying the people’s worries and impurities through the course of water.

 

Zero is told this leads into the practice known as _misogi_ , a rite meant to cleanse oneself of impurities thoroughly by immersion in water. He is also told by some chatty villagers that it is the same river to have purged the demon born into their town some years ago. They do not mention Kamui’s return, but he sees in their eyes the distrust, the fear of once more housing a child of bad omens and bad blood. He glares at them coldly when they ask him questions, pleased that they wither at his frown.

 

They are not so different, he thinks.

 

It isn’t difficult to find the demon prince even with all the different streets and beautiful oriental buildings. In a small corner by the northern gate, there is a small shrine dedicated to a nameless water spirit, marked by a plain stone entrance and a dirt path. A small well and a wooden gourd. By the quaint altar below a copper bell an ornate rope, Kamui kneels on the hard ground. Fourteen visible melted candle stubs, one newly lit candle, scatterings of blank wishing paper fallen from a tree, faded ink on wooden tags.

 

Silently, Zero leans against the twisted tree trunk and observes.

 

When Kamui finally rises to his feet, he sways unsteadily as he turns around. “I’m still not used to praying for long,” he admits sheepishly. “Sakura’s been trying to teach me, but,” he trails off, worrying his lip, eyes downcast.

 

“They have rituals meant to purify demons,” Zero supplies. “It’s surprising that you would stay willingly amongst people who have harmed you.”

 

Sighing, Kamui begins walking towards the shrine entrance, bare feet quiet against the hardened soil. His voice is hard, but not unkind. His robes flutter in the gentle breeze. “Leon told me you were looking for spells to help with nightmares. Let’s go before the good spell shops close.”

 

As they walk, Zero contemplates grabbing the demon’s hand, considers unraveling the veiling layers of bandages. Rather than acting on his impulses, though, he sets his jaw, smiles mischievously, and keeps his fingers clenched into fists at his sides.

 

 

+

 

 

A warm night, the sound of torrential rain and frothing currents. Zero wakes to a demon’s sad, glowing eyes, the hum of his name repeated over and over like a mantra. Cold sensation against his head, the relief of ink and magic over his missing eye. He closes his eye and releases a shaky breath; he trembles.

 

Outside, the full moon glimmers comfortingly. The night sky is a dark blanket, speckled with many stars; occasionally, a falling star leaves behind a brief trail of light. In the darkness of tree shade, fireflies blink, calling to each other.

 

Kamui lays on his stomach beside Zero, sleeping garb pooling at his elbows in fine wrinkles of silk. His red eyes look at something deep in the still waters of the pond, faraway, perhaps into another world, perhaps into the realm his dear water spirit must now call a home. Zero eyes the thin linen wrapped around his fingers, still, and reaches out carefully to trace down Kamui’s bony wrist. When he’s met with no resistance, he drags Kamui closer, _closer_.

 

“Better?” Kamui asks softly, other hand lingering over the symbols painted hastily onto Zero’s forehead. His words are warm and soft over Zero’s skin.

 

Zero surrenders to the demon’s touch, picking the bandages apart slowly, slowly. He has his eye closed to the midnight skies. The pond near him bubbles comfortingly, whispering prayers. Kamui’s palm—a warm remedy.

 

 

+

 


End file.
